Z The Absentee Agents  ONESHOT
by Fanatical Writer
Summary: When Morgan and Prentiss get left behind in Vegas, Emily decides to indulge...and she ends up spilling way more than her drink! ONESHOT P/M Friendship


_This story is a pinch hit for the Pick Your Own Pairing Challenge. _

_The prompt: Character A and Character B miss the BAU jet's departure and miss their ride home._

_I stuck with the original pairing for the story…Morgan and Prentiss. Enjoy!_

_The YMCA? Really? _Derek Morgan thought. He'd expected more from Vegas, but apparently his standards had been too high.

And he'd _really_ expected more out of SSA Emily Prentiss. But oh, no. There she was, standing up there on the bar belting out the lyrics and doing the moves. And he had to give it to her—she had some pretty good moves. Her hips sashayed from side to side as she went from the M to the C, and Derek couldn't help but shake his head. If they hadn't missed their damn plane, they wouldn't be in this mess. Well, _he_ wouldn't be…Emily seemed to be enjoying herself. Thanks to the six shots of Tequila she'd consumed, he was sure.

So in all of his gallantness, Derek put a foot on the barstool in front of him and stepped up onto the bar.

"Derek!" Emily said in delight when he reached her side.

"Hey, Em," he said dryly.

"Are you gonna do the YCMA with me?" she asked, her speech slurred.

"No, I am _not_ going to do the Y_MC_A with you," he informed her. "I'm going to get you off this bar and up to our hotel room." There was a chorus of groans from the hopeful men standing there watching Emily dance.

"But I'm not done doing the YMCA!" she insisted.

"Yes, Em. You _are_," he said firmly as he maneuvered them down from the bar top with precision—he didn't want to be responsible for Prentiss breaking her neck.

She hiccupped as they made their way down the hallway.

When they came to the elevators, Derek hit the button that would take them to their floor.

"I can't believe we missed the plane," she said with a sigh, drawing invisible circles on the wall with her index finger as they waited.

"Yeah. Neither can I," Derek agreed.

"How did we—" _Hiccup. _"Miss it again?" she asked.

"We boarded first, and then you realized you'd forgotten your cell phone. So we got off the plane, everyone else got on, thinking we were still on it, and it took off while we were searching your hotel room," he reminded her.

"Oh, that's right," she agreed. Then, "Hey!"

Derek pulled his gaze away from the numbers above the closed elevator doors to look at her. "What?" he asked. He really had no patience for drunken people…unless he was one of them.

"Did you know I slept with Reid?" she asked.

Derek chuckled as he pulled his gaze away from her. "Right," he said noncommittally.

"No, I'm serious!" she said, nodding enthusiastically. "I really did."

"Prentiss, you have had _way_ too much to drink," he told her.

"It was in Atlanta!" she said. "Remember when—"

"I remember Atlanta, Prentiss," Derek told her.

She nodded. "Well, it was after I went out and…" She wrinkled her nose. "Let that sleazebag who was teaching those classes _hit_ on me." _Hiccup. _"He made me feel dirty." She sighed dreamily, totally out of character for Emily Prentiss. "But then Reid made me feel _clean_," she said.

"Are you for real?" Derek asked as the elevator doors slid open. He ushered her onto the elevator to keep her steady, and then studied her face.

"I'm for real," she said.

Derek let out a low whistle. "Hot damn. Way to go, Reid, my man," he said under his breath.

"So…is there anything you want to tell _me_?" she asked sweetly.

Derek shook his head. "Nope," he said.

"_Nothing?_" she pressed.

"Not a thing," Derek confirmed.

"But what about Garcia?" Emily asked.

Derek straightened. "What about her?" he asked cautiously.

"When did you two sleep together?"

Boy, she wasn't giving up. Derek chuckled. "Prentiss, I have _never_ slept with Garcia," he said firmly.

"But you—"

"Flirt shamelessly and _that _is where we draw the line," he finished for her.

"How could you not have slept with her? The sexual tension is…just…uh!" she said with a grunt.

Derek looked at her in surprise. Drunk Emily was actually quite entertaining. "Let me tell you something, Prentiss. Garcia knows something a _lot_ of women don't realize," he said. He figured it was safe to confide in her tonight—she wouldn't remember in the morning anyway. "She's too damn good for me," he said through clenched teeth.

Emily hiccupped. "That's funny. That's what _she_ says about you."

Derek scoffed. "Yeah, well, she's wrong."

The elevator came to a stop and he helped her off, then led the way to the room they'd booked…with two beds. "Oh, there's my bed," she said longingly.

"Yep, there it is."

She walked over to her mattress and practically fell onto it; she didn't bother to crawl under the covers. "Derek?" she said, eyelids already closed.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone what I told you, OK?" she asked.

Derek didn't answer. But it didn't matter…less than a minute later, Emily was snoring.


End file.
